What if....

What if Lucas had lived?  What would he have been like?  Would we be tied to hospital visits and grown so close to doctors they'd have been like family?  Would Lucas be silly?  Would his smile have knocked my socks off?  Would we be ten times more overprotective than we already are? 

I know this.  He's the missing link.  The puzzle piece that is gaping wide open sometimes.  To describe how full our lives are would be impossible.  The Oldest and Littlest are FULL of life and happiness and mischeif and they bring so much pure joy to our lives.  Don't get me wrong.  They do.  To the nth degree. 

I remember holding him so close to me that morning.  He was so hungry and he was tired and I just held him.  We took pictures.  Not sure why we did that.  But we did.  I'm glad we did.  God's hand.  I remember him perfectly, vividly, his intense eyes. 

Just allow me this.  Sometimes I need to rant and be angry.  Still.  After seven years...still I need that.  We are the parents of three boys.  Not just two.  Three.  I want to yell that from the rooftop sometimes.  Handing over a six month old sweet baby boy to the OR nurse and never seeing him like that again, only fighting for his life for the next four months, sometimes I cannot believe it all happened.  It did.  It so did.

Yesterday the Littlest asked me what day he was going to die.  The breath was immediately sucked from me.  I was tying his shoes at the time and the tears stung my eyes.  The Oldest was standing nearby.  I handled all calmly so he could not see the storm of emotions in me, or my eyes..my words were calm and reassuring.  My heart was shrinking and my thoughts were racing.  It's not the first time he's asked me that, and I suppose to some end, kids at this age wonder about things like that, things that are bigger than them.  Add to that he knows he has another brother that he has never met and is in a place we all call Heaven.  He cannot imagine that--and why should he be able to?  I don't even want him to worry about things like that.  And when the topic comes up typically I am general and vague and fluff fluff fluff.  But he still knows what he knows.  The other stuff....I try to smooth it over.  At least for now.  Later, when he's able to understand more...that's different.  Even given all of that, he still asks questions about dying.  Maybe all kids do.  It just hurts when mine do. 

I love my boys more than I could ever describe or say.  And parenting is never easy.  Its hard and trying but fun and fulfilling.  It's the best of everything and sometimes the worst of everything.  I wouldn't trade anything, none of it.  Well, maybe I would trade one thing.  But irony of all ironies, I can't trade it.   We were handed what we were handed.  What is it they say?  I've heard it once or twice before.... If God brings you to it, God will bring you through it. 

He will and in some ways, He already has.  I just need my moments to be mad.  And cry.  Puffy eyes and all, I've had my moment for the day.  I know His grace is there.  It's quite twisted you know.  It really is.